From Weirdbook No. 34:
Dark humor abounds in Gregg Chamberlain’s “Bunnies of the Apocalypse.” A satanist, about to sacrifice a child to the glories of the dark lord, finds his young victim more resourceful than he even could have imagined.
From International Science Fiction No. 1 (Nov. 1967):
From The U.S.S.R. Ilya Varshavsky’s “Perpetual Motion,” translated by S. Ostrofsky, is a light-hearted extrapolation on the societal roles of humans and robots, with characters like Spoon and Tape Recorder.
“It was a very convenient invention, this calling every person by the name of some object, the image of which he wore on his chest. In this way, people talking to him were spared the trouble of remembering his name. Moreover, everyone tried to choose a name corresponding to his profession or hobby, thus letting people know in advance whom they were dealing with.”
Ilya Iosifovich Varshavsky (1908–1974) was born in Kiev, when it was part of the Russian Empire. His writing career began late in his life. Purportedly, after criticizing his son for wasting time reading science fiction, the young man challenged his father to write some of his own—which he did. Varshavsky’s work has been compared to O. Henry’s. Several of his stories have been translated in collections like Path Into the Unknown The Best Soviet SF (Macgibbon & Kee, 1966), The Ultimate Threshold: A Collection of the Finest Soviet Science Fiction (Penguin, 1978), Fantasy & Science Fiction (August 1967), and World’s Spring (Macmillan, 1981).
From Weirdbook No. 34:
In “Excavation” by Franklyn Searight, a lightning strike in Morris Clooney’s front yard seems to have triggered something. Over the coming months the earth rises to form a rectangular bed, a puzzle with no logical explanation. Even when Morris hires a young neighbor to literally dig into the matter, his questions remain. Then, one night the answer begins to materialize in a remarkably explicit dream from a time long past.
From International Science Fiction No. 1 (Nov. 1967):
“Ecdysiac” by Robert Presslie, was originally published in England’s New Worlds Science Fiction (January 1963). Ecdysis is the shedding of an outer coating or a layer of skin like a snake or a crustacean; so the story title gives you the science angle of this one right off if you’re curious enough to look it up. Otherwise, much of what happens is more like a tale of espionage.
Richard Pike is a journalist with the unique ability to spot alien beings that have inhabited the bodies of humans. Then he kills them—or at least tries to. The story opens with his fourth unsuccessful attempt on his current target.
The tale is set in Warsaw and Presslie provides luscious local color as he expertly weaves his mystery through the city’s streets west of the Vistula River.
“You would think,” he said, “that the Russians would change the name of their cars. The M in Zim and the S in Zis stand for Molotov and Stalin, both of whom are now out of favor. You would think they would change the name of the factories and call the cars Ziks.” (Khruschchev)
To calm his nerves after his foiled hit, Pike seeks release through drink and a woman. But he lets down his guard and finds himself escorted by authorities for questioning the following morning. His one-man mission is now in jeopardy until Presslie applies a few satisfying twists to cap off an already terrific story.
Robert Presslie (1920–2002) wrote science fiction most actively from the late 1950s through the early 1960s, while earning a living managing a pharmacy. With over three dozen short stories to his credit, his work appeared in New Worlds, Authentic, Nebula and Science Fantasy.
In a profile piece from New Worlds, he says, “If I was given the choice of an era to live in, I would choose the one I have because—like everyone who is in science fiction—I am a dreamer, and dreamers never had it so good. This must be the only age in which dreams come true while you wait.”
An excerpt from review for The Digest Enthusiast book six:
In the early 1990s, Kitchen Sink Press called on award-winning novelist Max Allan Collins to research and write about classic cheesecake pin-ups for a series of three trading card sets. Each set of 36 cards is housed in its own full color, two-piece box featuring an image gleaned from the cards inside. The back of each card includes the results of Collins’ informative research.
Painted Ladies features pin-up calendar art from the 1940s and 1950s. Pocket Pin-Ups (see TDE4), presents a compact history of 1950s pocket-size magazine covers.
Collins’ introduces Digest Dolls (1993) on the back of card #1 (Tab w/Marilyn Monroe): “Throughout the 1950s and into the ’60s, digest-sized pin-up magazines provided their predominantly male readership with an endearingly tacky blend of pin-ups girls and tabloid journalism.” The women are posed in bikinis, negligees, or what have they—but never completely nude. The stories are Hollywood press releases, true crime reports, advice, and surveys—usually about sex.
The Italian corespondent for International Science Fiction No. 1, Luigi Cozzi (b. 1947), contributes a tale of his own, “Rainy Day Revolution No. 39.” Except for a few sparks of wit, this slice-of-life slasher,
set amid overcrowded, dystopian wreckage, seemed pointless to me.
Luigi Cozzi is more well known as a screenwriter and director than SF author. His directorial credits (as Lewis Coates) include Contamination, Starcrash, Hercules, and Hercules 2.
From Weirdbook No. 34:
J. Michael Major gives readers a peek inside the art scene, with “In the Gallery.” It’s all quite inspirational as we follow an accomplished painter, who shares his life’s canvas with his new protégé—including some enjoyable asides on the ups and downs of the creative vocation—but don’t ignore the setting. This is Weirdbook, where the final sentence can shatter one’s naive illusions.
Worlds of StrangeneSS No. 2 review part 8 of 8:
In a sort-of mini version of Parallel Lives, called “It’s a Strange, Strange, Strange, Strange World,” “Mister Gogue” correlates C.S. Lewis with Doctor Who from “the good old, black and white, Patrick Troughton era.”
“Strange Mails” includes letters from Andy Boot, Graham Andrews, and Steve Rock.
Worlds of StrangeSS No. 2 looks good and reads even better. The production values are excellent, the design and artwork good, but the stories and content exceed the expectations set by its first impression.
From International Science Fiction No. 1, the opening paragraph of “The Disposal Man” by Australia’s Damien Broderick packs a wallop:
“Every Saturday night,” said Aunt Tansy, her eyes wide and blue and honest, “there’s a corpse in my bath.”
An outré beginning that requires a careful hand to expand, without unraveling into giddy self-indulgence. Fortunately, Broderick ably juggles curiosity and humor with the fantastic, and pulls off an amusing SF mystery.
The author of nearly two dozen novels, even more short stories, a few radio and movie scripts, and several nonfiction books, Damien Broderick (b. 1944) a noted Australian critic, editor, and scholar now resides in San Antonio, Texas.
Worlds of StrangeneSS No. 2 review part 7 of 8:
Not much longer than the magazine’s Micronicles, at two-and-a-half pages, is the issue’s final story, “The Lights in the Sky Aren’t Stars,” by Graham Andrews. It’s stocked with alien factions like Klarts and Emetians, and charismatic characters like Hardball Hannigan and Anna Liffey, but sadly, I wasn’t able to connect the dots of its abrupt ending. My bad.
This review concludes on June 13 . . .